He flew through the entire night. Eventually he came upon an island and he stopped to catch his breath.
The island was small and peaceful, with sandy beaches and palm trees swaying in the gentle ocean breeze. Jason landed near a quiet cove, setting his pack down on the soft sand. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks.
He stretched his sore muscles—flying through the night had taken its toll, even with his Quirks.
"Sometimes I forgot that The world of One Piece is incredibly beautiful." He said, As the sun continued to rise, casting its warm light over the tranquil scene, Jason took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the One Piece world. The crystal-clear waters sparkled like diamonds, and the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore created a soothing symphony.
As he relaxed, almost instantly is danger sense went off before he could activate one for all A dart went into his neck and injected him with something knocking him out.
Darkness swallowed him before he could react. The dart had hit precise—veins, arteries, nerves—injecting a potent paralytic and sedative designed to knock out even the most resilient opponents. His body failed him instantly, One For All unable to activate before the poison reached his brain.
He collapsed onto the sand, unconscious.
Footsteps approached through the trees.
Two burly men emerged from the tree line, their faces hidden by bandanas. They grinned as they approached Jason's unconscious form, dragging him roughly by his arms towards a small rowboat anchored nearby. "Another pretty one," one of them cackled, "This'll fetch a good price."
The men didn't check his pockets, too eager to get him onto their ship. They tossed his limp body into the rowboat and shoved off toward a larger vessel anchored further out in the cove.
Hours later, Jason woke groggy, wrists and ankles bound together with thick rope. He was in a dark, cramped hold below deck, surrounded by other unconscious or dazed captives.
He tried to move it only to get slightly shocked.A sharp sting went through his bound wrists and ankles—a small electric shock. The captors had used a mild-dose kairoki-like device to ensure the captives wouldn't struggle while being transported. His body refused to cooperate, muscle spasm keeping him still and docile.
A loud, gruff voice echoed from above: "Ship's in position. The Buyer is waiting."
(I really hope it's not a celestial dragon.) thought Jason.
The thought of being sold to a Celestial Dragon sent a chill down his spine. He knew the horrors they were capable of—torture, humiliation, and worse. The ship came to a halt, and heavy footsteps echoed above as the crew prepared for the handover.
The hatch above opened, and bright light streamed in. Rough hands grabbed Jason's bound form, dragging him up onto the deck. He squinted against the sudden brightness, trying to make out his surroundings. The ship was docked at a small, secluded pier on an unknown island.
A well-dressed man stood on the pier with a fishbowl on his head, surrounded by guards. He looked Jason up and down with a critical eye. "This one's in decent shape," the man commented, circling Jason like a predator. "Strong build, handsome face. He'll make a fine pet."
"The minute I get out of these chains, I'm gonna kick your ass."
The man laughed, amused by Jason's defiant words. "Feisty, I like that. But those chains won't be coming off anytime soon, pretty boy." He snapped his fingers, and one of the guards produced a collar with a small metal box attached—a device designed to deliver painful shocks.
The man fastened the collar around Jason's neck, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. "This little gadget will ensure you behave," he said with a smirk. "Try anything, and it'll deliver a shock strong enough to make you wet yourself. Now, let's get you to my estate."
Jason was shoved into a waiting carriage, the doors slamming shut behind him.
The carriage ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, the collar around his neck constantly reminding him of his captivity. After what felt like hours, the carriage came to a halt. The doors swung open, revealing a lavish estate surrounded by tall walls and guarded by stern-looking soldiers. Jason was dragged out and marched inside.
Inside the grand mansion, Jason was led through marble halls and up a sweeping staircase. He was thrown into a luxuriously appointed room with a large window overlooking the sea. The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the click of a lock engaging. He was alone, but not free.
The room was opulent but felt like a gilded cage. Jason surveyed his surroundings carefully—a large bed with silk sheets, a bathroom with marble fixtures, a vanity with mirrors, and the window overlooking the sea. He could activate One For All and short-circuit the collar easily, but the consequences weighed heavily on his mind. Any attempt to flee would alert the guards immediately.
He paced the room, his mind racing. If he stayed, he'd be a slave forever. But if he ran, he'd be caught instantly. He studied the room with a critical eye—the walls were thick, the window reinforced with metal bars. The guards on the grounds would be alert to any suspicious activity.
Then his gaze landed on the window.The girl paused outside the window, her back to Jason. She couldn't be more than sixteen, her small frame and childlike pigtails making her look even younger. But the brutal brand on her back told a different story—she was a slave, likely had been for years.
Jason stared in disbelief. That brand—the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon—belonged to the World Nobles. The Celestial Dragons. His mind raced with the realization that this girl was Boa Hancock, the future Pirate Empress, but currently an enslaved child. If she was still here, then she hadn't been freed yet.
(OK this just got a lot more complicated.) he thought just then another slave came into the room
The door creaked open and a older slave girl entered, her head bowed, eyes downcast. She was dressed in simple linen garment, her back also bore the same brutal brand as Boa. She carried a tray of food—rich dishes fit for a noble, not a slave.
"Who are you?"
The older slave girl jumped, startled by the sudden question. She looked up briefly, revealing tired eyes before quickly looking down again. "I-I am Margarit, sir," she whispered, her voice hoarse from years of silence and servitude. "Master sent me to bring you food."
"Why are you calling me, sir?"
Margarit flinched at the question, clearly unused to being spoken to like an equal. "It is... what we are taught, sir," she said quietly, placing the tray on the table. Her hands trembled slightly—a sign of long-term conditioning and fear. "We are nothing but property of the Celestial Dragons. To call anything else would..."
"I'm not a dragon he literally bought me as a slave so why is he being nice to me as my question?"
Margarit blinked, confused by the question. "Master..." she hesitated, "Master is a Celestial Dragon. Lord Saint Charlos. He... he purchased you at the auction last week. He specifically requested your room be..." she trailed off, avoiding eye contact. "You are his property. The food, the room, everything—it is all per his instructions."
"Why is he treating me so nicely and I looked outside I saw a slave girl who was in little rags carrying something. That was too heavy for her to pick up."
"That... that would be Lady Boa," Margarit explained softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "She is... a lower-class slave. She performs menial tasks, carries heavy loads, sleeps in the cold cellar... Master treats her poorly. She is... disposable."
"But you..." Margarit continued, her voice trembling slightly. "You are different. Master bought you at a high price. He... he has given you a comfortable room, good food. He treats you like... like an important guest." She looked up briefly, confusion in her eyes.
Margarit swallowed hard, her eyes flicking down again. "Some slaves are treated better than others, sir. It depends on their purpose. Lady Boa is just a workhorse. But you... Master has plans for you." She paused, then quickly added, "Please eat before the food gets cold."
The food was exquisite—rice, grilled fish, seasoned vegetables, fruit. Even though he was a slave, Saint Charlos clearly wanted to keep him healthy and well-fed. Jason ate slowly, his mind racing as he observed Margarit's mannerisms. She flinched at every movement, every word spoken too loudly. She was terrified—terrified of everything and everyone.
When he finally finished, she took his plate and left.